Monday, January 20, 2014

Remembering Michael Sporn

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I cannot
remember exactly when I first met Michael Sporn. In the mid-1970s I began attending events
given by ASIFA-East, and I’m sure that’s where I met Michael, but I couldn’t
name the event or the year.

Certainly,
I knew him by the time he was working on Raggedy Ann and Andy in 1976. I began working in the animation business
that year. Michael was 8 years my senior
and while farther along in his career, he was close enough to my age to be accessible. His love for animation was obvious from the
first time I met him and he was always happy to share his knowledge.

While
American animation was born in New York, its survival there was tenuous from
the 1930s onwards. The Fleischer studio
left for Miami and later returned under new ownership. The Van Beuren studio went out of business. Paul Terry left the city proper for the
suburb of New Rochelle. As theatrical
cartoons died in the 1950s and ‘60s, New York survived on TV commercials with
longer projects appearing only occasionally.
The artists in N.Y. animation were older, pretty much all veterans of
the theatrical studios. Some had entered
the industry as early as the 1920s and others as late as the 1950s, but the
industry wasn’t steady enough to entice newcomers except for those who loved
animation deeply. There were many better
ways to earn a living as an artist in New York when Michael entered the
business.

By the time
of Raggedy Ann, Michael had already worked for John Hubley, someone who
influenced Michael deeply. Hubley was a
pioneer in breaking the monopoly of the Disney design style, which he continued
to do at UPA and at his own studio. He
also gravitated to projects that were far from typical in animation. His films with his wife Faith dealt with
childhood from a child’s point of view and with the politics of nationalism and
the arms race. Michael continued the
Hubley tradition of eclectic design and films that were socially aware.

I think the
two best words to describe Michael were courage and determination. It took both to brave the uncertainty of New
York animation and to make films that he felt a personal connection to. The majority of N.Y. studios were content to
do service work and satisfied if they could keep their doors open. Michael, from the beginning, sought out
projects that were off the beaten track and that he could invest in
emotionally. At the same time, Michael
was always aware of the audience. While
many artists succumb to self-indulgence, Michael was always interested in being
heard. His films were always accessible.

Many of the
New York studios were prejudiced against younger artists. Many of them also ignored the better veteran
animators who were available. Michael
embraced both. He was constantly giving
young artists opportunities, many of whom went on to productive careers in and
out of animation. Animation lovers owe
Michael a debt of gratitude for keeping the late Tissa David busy and giving
her opportunities like The Marzipan Pig, a half hour special she animated in
its entirety for him. Other veterans such
as Dante Barbetta also found work with Michael.

Like many
young animators, I left New York after a few years in search of work, but I
always kept in touch with Michael and visited him whenever I was in New
York. Michael threw me a lifeline in
1989 for a few years as I worked on many of his TV specials from Toronto. The one I contributed the most to was Mike
Mulligan and His Steam Shovel, animating about a quarter of the film. Looking back on my career, my work for
Michael is easily some of my favorite.
He was a hands-off director, giving me more freedom as an animator than
most other studios, and yet the resulting films always bore his stamp.

Michael’s
budgets were always low. The animation I
did for him had to be on three’s in order to stay within the budget. Working for cable channels or PBS, it was a
given that budgets would not be as high as those from the networks. However, the freedom these outlets provided
allowed Michael to make films that he cared about. The Red Shoes, Happy to be Nappy and
Whitewash all dealt with race. The
Little Match Girl dealt with urban poverty.
Abel’s Island, based on a book by William Steig, dealt with loneliness
and the power of art. That film and other
Steig adaptations, Dr. Desoto and The Amazing Bone, are far more faithful to
Steig’s work than DreamWorks was.

Michael always
wanted to make a feature. He came close
several times. His final project, based
on Edgar Allen Poe, was plagued by problems; first the death of Tissa David and
now Michael’s own. It's ironic that Michael passed away on January 19, Poe's birthday. At a time when
animated features are proliferating, it’s a crime that Michael never had the
opportunity to make one. His uncanny ability
to stretch a dollar meant that he could have made a feature for under $5
million, but because he stuck with drawn animation and because his taste was
considered too different from typical animation, he never got the chance.

For all the
box office and ratings success that animation has enjoyed recently in North America,
I would not call this a fertile time.
Too many films and TV shows are imitating past successes. Michael never gave in, though it probably
would have been to his economic advantage to do so. He managed to keep his studio going, always
looking for projects he could love despite their tight budgets. He stayed in New York, he stayed true to his
own vision, and he provided opportunities for artists that nobody else would. He took advantage of New York’s cultural
scene by hiring actors and musicians from the theatre for his projects, tapping
a talent pool that Hollywood has mostly ignored. He made good films. My favourite is Abel’s Island, though they
all are worth watching.

Michael’s
lack of profile with the general public will make his loss seem less than it
is. Make no mistake: we’ve lost a great
film maker who managed to create art with the sparsest of resources. Animation needs creators like Michael if it’s
ever going to explore the full range of human experience.

Those who
knew and worked with him know what we’ve lost.
I’m sorry for those who aren’t aware of Michael’s work, but while they
can correct that, they missed the chance to know a great animation artist and a generous friend.

10 comments:

Well said. It's a shame a man like him never got to make a full length animated feature film. His critiques of many of the ones that have been made in the past few years have been excellent on top of providing an amazing blog with a wealth of knowledge behind it. Hopefully his legacy will live on and inspire others.

I didn't know Mike personally as you did, Mark. Though I can't say I always shared his tastes, I always admired his articulate critiques and blunt frankness in his opinions. And organic, hand-drawn animation had no greater champion than Mike Sporn, in that he dedicated his life and career to that noble art form.

I knew something was up, as his blog posts had become few and far between of late, and somewhat off due to what he must have been suffering through. This news of his death came as quite a shocker, though. Quite a tragic loss to the world of animation.

Of all of those who cared about hand-drawn animation; Mr. Sporn never came off as pompous, unlike some people on Newgrounds. (RTIL, Aaron McCray, and Nathan Malone come to mind.) His posts were very insightful in spite of numerous typos and one glaring HTML gaffe, and I was looking forward to more commentary from him. Alas, it was not to be.

Thanks for this thoughtful post. I didn't know Michael, although I so often read his blog and his passionate words that it felt as if I did. I'll miss that blog (an amazing resource!) and that voice very much.

I didn't know Michael Sporn but he mentioned a blog of mine on his blog and I was in high spirits for that whole week.

It's sad that his Poe project never came to be. Finances prevented me from contributing something and when I was finally ready to send the money my dog required an emergency operation, ending that. I always felt bad about it.

You mention that he had low budgets. His films were so well designed that it wasn't noticeable. Maybe because his stories weren't flashy. One of the things I appreciated in his work was that it was never filled with dishonest moments and it didn't go for the easy emotional "moment" (unlike the majority of animated features that come out today).

A great filmmaker. My condolences to his wife, to you, his friend and everyone else who loved him.

I met Michael Sporn once, very briefly, a few years ago, because I walked into his studio when I was visiting New York City. I was with a friend (who is much bolder than I) when I realized that I was not far from where he made his films. (I have always been an animation fan and much admired his films.)

I told her I wanted to see the entrance to the place - I had been reading his "splog" for a while and had seen a picture of the entrance there, I believe. She agreed to go with me and when we got there, the door was open, and she insisted on going in.

Micheal was the only one there, it was on a Saturday, and he asked us who we were. We introduced ourselves and I clumsily tried to explain my admiration for his films and his championship of hand-drawn animation.

Michal seemed pleased, and, without any prompting from me, signed and gave me a DVD of a pre-release copy of The Marzipan Pig, which is now one of my treasured possessions. I have always been struck by his artistry and I now know of his generosity first hand.

I'm sorry for posting this so much after the fact, but I have not had the time to keep up with animation news the past year or two.

About Me

I've worked as an animator, writer, producer and director in TV animation for 29 years. I created the cgi series Monster By Mistake.
I hold a Masters degree from York University in Cinema and Media Studies and am currently teaching animation at Sheridan College.
I can be contacted at mark(dot)mayerson(at)sheridanc(dot)on(dot)ca.